On the Trail & ‘Round the Campfire

Welcome to my little diversion from the daily grind. Pull up a log or, just sit on yer’ fist and lean back on yer’ thumb (put a smiley face here) and let’s share a moment. I’ll throw another blog in the fire every now and then and, we’ll chew the fat about such mundane things as birds, nature, cowboys and the southwest, USA. I may even wax poetic or philosophical occasionally, but always honoring our creator. If you like something you read, please leave yer’ tracks.

Though uncommon and very localized here in SoCal, I have known over the years that the Yellow-breasted Chat migrates to our area in the spring. But, they are very secretive and skittish, so they are hard find and observe. Over the years, I have known

As they say, "gold is where you find it," but with equal pithiness a miners proverb says: "Gold is where you lost it." That generally means, the one not finding the gold was lost, not the gold. The following tale ain't no Pot 'O Gold at the end of th

Being a native of San Diego County, CA, particularly a native of the arid cow country of East County, I know the rigors of dry weather, Santa Ana winds and the erratic rainy seasons. I grew up during the early forties and fifties not far from Moreno

Whether horseback or afoot, cowboys enjoy their outdoor surroundins. I've known a few cowhands who enjoy birdin' (bird watching) as they ride their spread and work their cattle, spring and fall. I knew one that even tended some bluebird nest boxes he

OK, let's start by throwin' our first blog on the fire. How about the outdoor enjoyment of bird watching also called "birding" and "twitching" in the southwest? Twitching is the old Englishman's term for bird watching. In this country the whole idea of bird watching began on the east coast. As the English inhabited the native land so did their passion for watching birds. In fact, the famous artwork of naturalist and twitcher, John Audubon, was mainly to record and identify the new found birds for the English royalty, on this new found continent, called America. There were no wildlife cameras and lenses back then, not even an instant Polaroid! So it is that, in the USA, everything about "birding" and "twitching" began on the east coast. In reality, not much has changed in the academia of birding.

Funny how the colorful past has a way of coloring our present with its own color. I have walked and hiked and driven the steep dirt road going up the southwest side of Palomar Mountain for years, Nate Harrison Grade. The road is very rough and gets worse with washouts and boulders in the road after the winter rains. I love old dirt roads no matter where they lead. Each one extends it's own invitation and sometimes interesting curiosities.

For lack of better things to do after a hard days work on the range, cowboys of the old west would sit around the campfire in the evenin' and entertain one another with poems and tall tales, known as "windies". Many of their tales and poems are derived from real life experiences.

Now in my book, "Cow Chip Poetry—Lies, Lingo 'an Lore," you've been readin' about 'ol Gabby fixin 'Possum Roast' and Rattlesnake Soup'. Well, here's some of his recipes I stole from his "receipt book." Like every chuck wagon "cookie," he could only carry the simplest of ingredients to fix his vittles. Stuff like corn meal, flour and dry beans were staples. Line shack cooks varied from outfit to outfit dependin' on their stored supplies. On the ranch, bunkhouse cooks had the luxury of more shelves and greater availability of foodstuffs. So, dependin' on the outfit, bunkhouse cowhands could be "eatin' high on the hog."

I came to seek the beauty of the undefiledThe serenity of panorama and seclusion of woodsThe quiet presence of the pristineAnd magnificence of the unexplored wildsAnd never-ending expansesThe awesome feeling of discoveryTo sense the timelessness of distant views

What is there about a certain place that we feel its influence pressing on our spirit? What are the elusive influences that make themselves felt along a faded trail rising from the desert floor to the piney woods? What particular spirit seems to color our mood or quicken our feeling of existence? Are they not the guardians of our very being, the sentinels of our longing?